


in tongues and quiet sighs

by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone



Series: Aine Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Here Lies the Abyss, Missing Scene, perseverance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3388487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/pseuds/fleurdeliser, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and Aine share their troubles as they deal with the events of Adamant and what happens when they get back to Skyhold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in tongues and quiet sighs

**Author's Note:**

> Again, many thanks to [seimaisin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/) for betaing this for us.

There is a quiet that sweeps a battlefield as the fighting stops. Cullen pulls his sword out of a rage demon when he hears it. 

"Commander!" he hears Leliana call from the battlements a moment later. "The Inquisitor and her party have returned." Cullen feels so dizzy with relief he has a hard time staying upright. "She is dealing with the Wardens now." 

"You there!" he shouts to a nearby scout. "Tell the Inquisitor what has happened. Tell her we have captured Erimond. I'm sure she'll appreciate the opportunity to judge him herself." 

"Yes, ser," he replies and runs off. Cullen lets himself sag against a pillar then. Just for a moment. She's _back_. He'd forced down the knowledge that she was gone, because he had to. His troops needed him, they didn't need to know how numb he was inside. He only knows how long it's been because he's absolutely coated in demon blood. And he's not numb anymore. He's not exhausted either - his blood is singing with adrenaline and an absolute stunned joy.

He breathes a prayer of thanks and stands straight. They have wounded to attend to and a battlefield to clean up. He's selfish enough to hope she comes to him while he attends to it. He wants to see her with his own eyes. He wants to touch her, to feel that she is whole and real and _alive_. People don't just _go into_ the Fade. But Aine Lavellan, it seems, has done just that.

He squares his shoulders and gets to work. Aine appears shortly, coming down a set of stairs with a full entourage of soldiers, Wardens, and her own team. Cullen draws a slow breath. She looks unharmed. Unharmed, but annoyed, and Cole is standing awfully close. Cole is many things, but his intuition about when people night need help is never wrong. Though, judging by the look on his face, perhaps _he_ is the one who needs help. Maybe it's both. 

"Yes, Warden Taren, I understand that, but believe me when I tell you there is nothing I can do about it right now," he hears her say. She catches sight of him and the ghost of a smile twitches her lips. She definitely looks annoyed, though, and when the Warden opens his mouth she silences him with a single look. "Warden, it is creators know what time, we have all just been fighting a rather long and unpleasant battle, and I just fought a Nightmare demon physically _in the Fade_. It can wait until after we've had some damned rest."

Cullen can't help blanching at the mention of the Nightmare Demon.

"You're right," the Warden murmurs. "I apologize, Your Worship." 

"Take care of your men tonight," she tells him not unkindly. "Tomorrow, we'll coordinate and plan." 

She touches Cole's elbow and steers him towards Solas, who looks serene as ever. Cassandra gives Aine a nod and walks the Wardens off towards where they've set up healers. 

Aine meets Cullen's eyes.

He calls over one of his lieutenants and starts issuing orders. "I have business with the Inquisitor to attend to," he says. "Do only what is absolutely necessary to finish here, then let the men retire for the night." 

"Business?" Aine says with a lifted brow once they're alone. 

"Walk with me," Cullen murmurs. He takes her hand and laces their fingers together. He's holding too tightly, but he can't seem to stop. 

"Cullen," Aine murmurs. "Are you all right?"

"Are you?" he asks. "Fighting demons under a full moon seems almost tame, in comparison to what you just did." 

She shrugs, and he might have missed the way her free hand automatically traces the hilt of her belt knife if he wasn't paying such close attention. 

"I was terrified," he admits. "You disappeared and we only knew what the soldiers on the ramparts saw. I thought...you might not come back."

He feels her fingers tighten in his. "I did."

"I don't know what I would have done," he admits quietly. Aine breathes in deeply through her nose and shudders. "Aine," he murmurs. 

"The thing about demons is that they get into your head," she says. "And then show you what you're most afraid of."

"I -" He wants to ask, but he doesn't.

"I will _never_ let what I saw happen," she says fiercely. 

"I know," he soothes. "I trust you."

She steps close and tilts her forehead against his breastplate, then huffs out a laugh. "You're filthy," she says. "I'm filthy. And we should probably meet with everyone at least briefly." 

"My people are setting up camp," he assures her. She's right, of course. They have things they need to do, but he's irrationally afraid that if he stops touching her, she'll vanish. 

She lays a hand flat against his breastplate. "Ma vhenan," she murmurs. He's not entirely certain what that means, but judging by her tone, he has a pretty good idea. 

He brings his hands up to cup her cheeks and she tilts her face up. She leans forward, up on her toes as usual to claim a kiss. He kisses back until they're both breathless. 

"Right," she murmurs when they pull back. "Meeting. Clean up. I...will you stay with me tonight? I don't want to be alone." 

"Just try to drag me away," he replies.

She takes a breath and pulls back further. "Work," she says. 

"Right," he replies. She sounds as reluctant as he feels.

Still, they both manage to part ways. Cullen goes to clean up first, then checks in with his lieutenants before going to the command tent. The others are already there and they listen as Aine gives an account of what, exactly, happened. The longer she talks, the more he wants--no, _needs_ to touch her. He grits his teeth. Almost done.

They talk about how the battle went, make a few plans for the next day, and talk about the alliance with the Wardens, then Aine brings the meeting to a close. "We did well tonight," she says. "Thank you all." 

She stops to offer additional condolences to Wardens who were close to Stroud. Finally, she dismisses them and he follows her out and to her tent. 

Once the flap is closed behind them, he steps forward and wraps his arms tightly around her. She pushes him away almost immediately, fingers scrabbling for the buckles of his breastplate.

"Aine," he murmurs and helps her take it off. Both their hands are shaking. She immediately presses her face against his chest. His tunic is still a bit damp from his earlier wash, but she doesn't seem to mind. He can feel her breath, hot against his sternum and not entirely steady.

He slides his hands through her hair, down over her shoulders, down her back. She shrugs, and her heavy leather coat is slithering down her arms. He lets it fall. He brings one hand up to curl around the back of her neck and slides the other over the small of her back. 

When she presses up against him again, he hums thoughtfully and slips both hands lower still, lifting her up so he can kiss her more easily. She wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his. 

"Cullen," she mutters, arms tightening. "I need you."

"You have me," he replies immediately. 

"No, I mean...I _want_ you," she murmurs in his ear. "Please." 

He sucks in a breath. "Aine." 

"Don't make me beg," she replies, startling a laugh from him. He cannot picture it. 

"Demand, perhaps."

"If you don't want to—" 

"Aine, I do," he tells her. "I had a plan, you see," he tells her, sets her back down. She takes his hands and puts them on the buttons to her shirt. "It was…somewhat more romantic than this." 

"You can pick me flowers from the roadside on the way back to Skyhold," she says impatiently.

He laughs and leans down to kiss her while his fingers work on her buttons. "Mostly," he murmurs between kisses. "My plan involved a more comfortable bed." 

"I thought you were Fereldan," she teases, wriggling out of the unbuttoned linen. "Don't you sleep on piles of hay and use mabari as pillows? That's what all the songs suggest."

He laughs again and when he gets the last button undone, reaches up to cup her cheeks. "I love you," he tells her seriously. Because it's true. Because he could have lost her today. 

She smiles, bright and more than a little wild. "And I you." 

He crushes his lips to hers while her hands slide under his tunic to brush his stomach and sides. She loves him. And he cannot doubt it, not with her hands questing and the little noises his lips and tongue stifle.

He pulls back to gasp for breath and she immediately tugs his tunic up over his head. He struggles out of the cloth, stomach jumping as she goes for the laces of his breeches. He reaches for her shirt and tugs it fully apart so he can _see_ her. She's so tiny, it always makes him feel overly large, fumbling, but she never seems to notice.

She shrugs the shirt off her shoulders and his fingers move over her shoulders and trail down over the tops of her breasts. The hooks along the front of her binder are small, but they come loose easily with her help. He carefully pulls away the wrapping and when it falls to the floor, he cups her breasts with his hands. 

It's the first time he's ever touched her like this, unbelievably enough. It feels miraculous to have his hands on her now, particularly knowing that she was nearly taken from him mere hours ago. He spends a moment or two learning the textures of her skin, how she likes to be touched, but he can feel her impatience, and it spurs him on as well. He steps out of his breeches and reaches for her laces. 

She decides to explore his chest with her fingertips at that very moment. She makes an appreciative noise and suddenly every night spent in exercise when he couldn't sleep is worth it. 

"Looking at you almost makes me believe in your Maker," she jokes. 

"Aine," he breathes. Her grin gets bigger. She certainly likes to rile him.

She leans in to kiss the center of his chest as he pushes her breeches down her thighs. She steps out of them and then steers him back toward her bedroll. He lets her tug him down. 

"Cullen," she murmurs and pulls him on top of her. It doesn't matter where they are, at the moment, because all he knows or cares about is having Aine pressed against him. She feels even smaller under him. He tries to keep his weight on his elbows, but she objects. "Want to _feel_ you," she says. 

He feels her, every hot silky square inch of skin. He presses his face to her neck and breathes gratefully as her arms twine around him. 

She bucks her hips a little underneath him. "Cullen." He laughs and kisses her, then leans back, fingers hooking into the band of her smalls and tugging them down. "That's more like it," she laughs. He pulls them off her legs and reaches up to slide his hands over her hips and belly. He bites his lip. Maker, she's beautiful. Then she gets her hands in his hair and flips them somehow.

He laughs breathlessly. "You've been practicing." 

She smirks down at him. "With Bull." His scalp is tingling a little, but he's picturing the petite elf wrestling with the Qunari, and he has to laugh. "Jealous?" she drawls.

"I'm jealous of anyone who gets to spend more time with you than I do," he replies and pulls her down for a kiss. 

She hums and tugs at his hair, then trails her hands back down his cheeks to his shoulders. She pushes up and her hands reach for the last layer separating them. He lifts his hips and she pulls them down and off. The noise she makes when she lays him bare...he shivers.

"You're going to feel so good," she breathes. 

"Maker's breath," he sighs. Aine is running her hands up his thighs, ruffling the soft hairs there. He can't help but stare. Between her beautiful face and what her breasts look like in the lanternlight, there's a lot to look at. 

She takes him in hand and he moans. "Shh," she cautions with a smile. "Sound travels in a tent. Unless you _want_ to be teased until the end of time." 

He feels himself blushing, but he meets her eyes. "Should I care?"

Her smile softens and she leans down to kiss him. "I love you," she says when she pulls away. "I don't care if the whole world knows."

Her hand is gentle, but she's still stroking him, making his breath catch. "You said before - ma..." 

"Vhenan," she finishes.

"What does it mean?" he asks. 

She smiles. "My heart." 

"Oh," he breathes. 

She presses her palm to his chest again, smiling. "Oh?"

"You've been calling me that for weeks," he says. 

"I've been in love with you for about that long, so..." Aine trails off. "I'm not good with words, Cullen."

He wraps his arms around her shoulders and holds her close. "I don't need you to be," he whispers in her ear. 

"I'm better at other things," she murmurs.

"Are you?" he asks and slides his hands back down to her waist. 

She sits up again. "Oh, definitely." Her eyes light up.

"I, ah, hope I...that is, it's been several years and I--" 

She puts two fingers over his lips. "Cullen." 

"I've thought about it quite a lot," he finishes. 

"So have I," she replies, smiling. She takes him in hand again and lifts her hips. He holds his breath as she slowly takes him in, sinking down his length with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. "Cullen," she gasps. He feels her hands tremble where they rest on his sides. 

He steadies his own breath. She feels better than anything he's felt in a long, long time. He takes a deep, shaky breath and tries to relax the grip he has on her hips. 

Aine bites her lip and starts to move. He keeps his own hips still and concentrates on the flush rising on her breasts. She smooths her hands over his chest and murmurs in Elvhen. He wishes he knew what she was saying, but not enough to ruin the moment by asking. He can barely hold on to a coherent thought. She's filling up his senses one by one.

She slides her lips over his jaw and he reaches up to cup her breasts, thumbs sliding over her nipples. She pushes into it. "More."

He leans forward and gets his mouth around one nipple. He feels her moan against his lips. She rocks her hips faster, hands clutching at his shoulders. He kisses his way across her chest to her other breast and starts rolling her hips up. She cradles his skull, holding his head close and rocking down with a low noise. It hits him again how close he was to losing her today and his fingers tighten on her waist. "Aine," he gasps. 

"Emma lath," she whispers and tugs him until they're both sitting, arms twined tightly around each other. She keeps rocking down, nails biting into his shoulders, kissing his neck and jaw and up to the corner of his mouth. He wonders if she feels as frantic and desperate as he does. He moans against her cheek when she starts clenching around him. She's so strong. She's so beautiful. He can't believe she's real.

He moves with her, matches her pace, face buried in her neck. "I love you," he tells her.

"Ma'arlath," she whispers in his ear. "Cullen." She clenches hard around him and cries out, arms tightening around him and fingers grasping. 

He keeps moving, pressing his lips against her neck to stifle his own helpless moan. The feel of her pulsing around him is enough. He gasps out her name and his hips stutter into her as he comes. 

She sighs against his cheek. He runs his hands up and down her back, before pushing them into her hair and kissing her.

"You're going to have to teach me your language," he tells her with a nuzzle.

"Really?" she asks. 

"Yes," he replies seriously. 

"Because you want to know what I'm saying in bed?" she teases gently.

He cups her cheeks. "Because I want to know _you_ ," he tells her. "Understanding what you say in bed would be a welcome side benefit. I got you back from the Fade," he adds softly. 

"It was...I..." she shakes her head and sighs, pressing her forehead to his. "I don't ever want to experience that again." 

"I'm tempted right now to just not let you out of my sight," he replies. "I will, of course, but I think - some language lessons are an acceptable trade?"

That gets a laugh from her and he smiles. "I suppose it'll do," she says and lifts off him. They both hiss; he rolls her over and stretches out beside her to kiss her.

She kisses back, pulling his hand up to her breast before sliding an arm over his waist. He fondles her gently as they kiss, loving the satisfied little noises she makes. He never wants to stop touching her, he thinks with a rush of giddy joy. He's exhausted, but sated instead of despairing.

He knows all too well that it won't last long. He almost doesn't want to go to sleep for fear of waking up with the usual headache and mind racing with thoughts of the shimmering philter. Aine rubs gentle fingers over the lines on his forehead. He captures her hand and kisses her palm. "I never thought I'd..." he shakes his head. 

"What, Cullen?"

"If I knew how to pray to thank your creators for you, I would," he says. 

"No need. I've taken care of it," she smiles.

"Good." He kisses her again and again. She winds her fingers through his hair and hums against his mouth until he drifts off in her arms.

He wakes up the next morning feeling every bit of effort he expended during the battle, but Aine is soft and warm against his back. He can't hear much happening in the camp, so it must be early. His head is pounding and he's not sure he can go back to sleep. Aine's hand rests against his chest. He covers it with one of his own and takes a deep breath. 

She stirs and presses a kiss against the back of his neck. "Morning," she murmurs. He turns over, tugs her into his arms, and buries his face in her neck. "Cullen," she whispers.

"Mornings are…difficult," he admits quietly. 

"You slept soundly," she tells him, running cool fingers over his cheeks.

"For the first time in a very long time," he says, into her neck. "I...have nightmares most nights. And the, ah, cravings are stronger. The lyrium was part of my morning routine." 

"What helps?" she asks quietly.

He sighs. "Not much. I get up, I go about my day." 

"You need a new morning routine," she tells him.

He smiles and pushes a hand into her hair. "I am open to ideas." 

"I have a few."

"Care to share?" he asks and brushes his lips along her jaw. 

"I'll kiss you until you forget about it," she promises.

"I certainly won't argue with that," he says. 

He hopes it works. If nothing else, he'll have her in his arms and that's a more than acceptable outcome.

 

//

 

"Little Miss Murder beat us again," Varric says. 

"She always beats us," Bull replies. 

"She beat us more than usual," Varric amends. 

Aine rolls her eyes and keeps riding. She wants to get back to Skyhold as fast as possible. The bandits they'd cleared out of Redcliffe Farms had been a nuisance, no more. If her kill count is higher than usual, well. She's been worried and maybe a little bit hurt. That always translates into her throwing herself into the task at hand and this time, that task was killing bandits. 

Dorian rides up next to her after a few hundred meters. "Aine?" he says quietly.

"What?" she snaps and sighs. "Sorry." 

"A bit tense, fearless leader?" he says mildly.

"A bit," she replies. "Did you need something?" 

"Just thought I would ride with you, and give you someone to complain to if necessary. I owe you, after all."

Aine smiles at him. He doesn't owe her a damn thing and he knows that. His complaining is often the most entertaining thing about a bad situation.

"I'm tired," she finally says. "And the journey back to Skyhold is entirely too long." 

"Both true things. Is that all, fearless leader?"

She huffs. "I'm worried about Cullen."

He makes a face. "How so?"

"How much do you know? About—" 

"You mean the lyrium?" he asks and she nods. "Only that he hasn't had any since he joined our merry band of misfits," Dorian says. 

"Right," she murmurs. "He's struggling a bit. And I can't -"

"Ah," Dorian murmurs. "For whatever it's worth, I think knowing you care for him helps more than you know." 

She sighs. "That's…after Adamant…we…I thought…" she trails off and sighs. "He went to Cassandra. He didn't even tell me."

"He's proud, that one," Dorian sighs. "Take it from one who knows."

She takes a breath and lets it out slowly. Dorian is right. On top of that, Cullen wasn't thinking clearly. She knows all this, just as she knows the first thing she'll do when they get back to Skyhold is check on him. She loves him too much to do otherwise. 

"In other news, something you pulled off of one of those bandits smells terrible," Dorian says, eyeing her saddlebag with distaste.

She laughs. "Your nose is just sensitive." 

"It is. And whatever that is is disgusting." He doesn't move off her heel, though, instead calling back to Bull that something Aine is carrying smells worse than he does. She smirks. The mood has largely passed her by.

They're steadily riding up the foothills of the Frostbacks, which means they're nearly home. Aine chuckles at the thought. It is home, though, or it's beginning to be. She's never thought of any specific place as home. Wherever her clan happened to be was as close as she's ever come. It's colder than she'd ever imagined, but she's fond of being up among the snowy peaks nonetheless. And now she can go to Cullen when she gets cold. If nothing else, he'll take off his gloves and hold her hands until they're warm again. 

She hopes she can, anyway. When he'd asked her for some time right before she left for Redcliffe, she'd complied, but with hesitation. If he needs more, well. She might start arguing with him. Hopefully he's willing to listen.

The next day, she finally dismounts in Skyhold's courtyard and one of Dennet's stablehands takes her horse. As soon as her boots hit the ground she marches straight up to Cullen's office. 

He's not there, so she keeps going toward his favorite spot on the battlements. She wants to _cry_ when he expresses surprise that she still cares for him and even more when he asks how _she_ is doing. It's ridiculous and she hates the burning behind her eyes. 

"I would be better," she snarks, "if we could talk about you. Because I was thinking about you all week, and I missed you."

He smiles down at her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "You were never far from my mind, either," he admits. 

"Yes, but I'm sure you were _brooding_ ," she says lightly, teasing.

He laughs ruefully. "I was." 

She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head against his shoulder. "Is everything all right?"

"No," he replies. "But I can feel that it perhaps it will be. I couldn't before. And I do feel much better physically." 

"I know you and Cassandra have an agreement and I respect that," Aine says. "But please...I...please let me help you."

"You do help me," he replies.

"You didn't tell me," she says before she can talk herself out of it. 

"I am sorry I kept it from you," he replies quietly.

"Cullen, I'm...I'm _shite_ at talking about things like this," she says with a heavy sigh. 

She feels him press a kiss to her temple. "Forgive me," he murmurs. "I wasn't thinking clearly and I certainly never intended to hurt you." 

"It's not that," she says. "I mean. It did hurt, but I'm more...I don't want you to ever think you can't come to me, ma vhenan." 

"Even on...official business?" He looks chastened. 

"You and Cassandra, I do respect that, and I'm gone so much, and that--" She stops and huffs out a frustrated breath. 

"Aine," Cullen murmurs. 

"Next time," she says, "Maybe just...come to me first? And let me try to help you? Maybe I won't be able to, but I want to be able to try. And if I can't help, _then_ I won't stop you from going to Cassandra." 

"Odds are, she'll call me a stubborn fool," Cullen says, lips quirking a bit. 

"It's good to have backup," Aine replies. "Cullen--"

"Aine. Inquisitor?"

She doesn't have words in either of the languages she speaks for what she wants to say, not really. It's all a jumble of love and worry and a thousand other things. She presses her face into his chest. "I believe in you," she whispers. "So don't act like I'm wrong or you'll make me angry."

He brings a hand up to the back of her head and kisses the crown of her head. "All right," he murmurs. 

"Can we...do you have some time?" she asks. 

"For you? Always," he says. 

She might not have all the words she wants, but she's pretty good at showing. "My quarters?" she asks. "Or yours. I'm not picky." 

"Mine are closer," he murmurs.

"And we're less likely to be waylaid by anyone annoying," she says, lifting her head to smile at him. "If you hurry." She swats at his arse to make him laugh.

He does, bright and surprised, and she pulls away quickly and dashes down the battlements a few paces before turning around to watch him follow. His cheeks are pink and he's smiling, and she walks backwards to get a better look at it all. Creators, she missed him. 

She ends up running into the door to one of the towers back first and is laughing so hard, he catches up to her, crowding into her space. 

"Cullen, this is not inside," she grins.

"No, it's not," he says, and a wicked smile plays at his lips. 

Aine raises an eyebrow. "Oh, are we doing this here?" 

He laughs and leans close. "Just this," he says, and presses his lips to hers. 

She wraps her arms around his neck. "Acceptable, ser."

"I live to serve, Inquisitor," he says low and hot in her ear. 

"Please, continue." 

He chuckles and lifts her in his arms, pushing the door open and slamming it behind them. She laughs, arms tightening around his neck. He's grinning and happy and she loves him so much she's fairly certain her past self would vomit to see her. 

Cullen sets her down in front of the ladder. "This is the one drawback of this location," she grumbles, scaling the ladder while he removes his breastplate before following her.

"But I do get to watch you climb up there," he says behind her. 

She laughs. "Commander!" 

"What?" he replies, all innocence.

"I'm never believing that little act ever again," she informs him. "You're entirely too good with your mouth and everything else for me to believe it." 

"But you did believe it," he smirks. 

"Shut up or I'll find something else for that mouth to do," she replies promptly.

"As if I would argue," Cullen tells her seriously. 

She takes a slightly unsteady breath and removes her outer layers until she's just in her tunic and breeches. She props herself against his headboard and waits for him to climb the ladder.

When he appears, his armor is completely gone. She loves seeing him like this, loves seeing a few more hints of skin and his muscles moving under just one layer of fabric. She gestures imperiously for him to stop. "Less clothing."

He laughs. "Same to you," he says, but he obliges her by pulling his tunic over his head, baring the heavy muscles she so loves to look at. They were a bit too desperate for each other, the last time they were together, for her to fully appreciate him in all the ways she wants. Also, tents are both dark and cramped. This is neither.

He sits on the bed at her side and starts removing his boots. She takes the opportunity to touch, fingertips wandering up his arms and down his back. Cullen wriggles, obviously ticklish. She laughs.

He makes a face at her, clearly going for disapproving, but his mouth is twitching too much for her to believe it. Aine slides up to the headboard and wriggles out of her own clothes. He finishes removing his boots and stands to shuck off his trousers. She takes a deep breath and bites her lip.

"You're watching like a hawk," he murmurs. 

"You're beautiful," she tells him. 

He flushes enough to make her laugh. "I am glad you think so."

"Hasn't anyone told you that before?" she asks. 

"Only people whose opinions don't matter to me. And, well. Isabela did once but she was laughing at the time." He smiles a bit when he says it and she makes a note to ask about Isabela. Later. 

"Well, my opinion must matter, then. As it should," she smirks. "And you are very, very beautiful."

His blush spreads down his chest and he leans over her, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he says. 

She tips her head to the side. "Tell me more."

His lips slide down her neck. "You make me want to shirk all my duties and spend weeks upon weeks touching you." 

"You? Stop working?" she teases. 

"It would still be work," he replies. "Of a...specific physical sort."

Her laugh turns into a gasp when his mouth closes around her nipple. He sucks gently; she smooths her hands down his back to his arse. He moves his hips against her thigh and she moans. "This was supposed to..." she curses when he rolls her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Yes?" he asks, lifting his head. 

She runs her fingers through his hair. "I was going to take care of you," she says. "Let me?" 

"Maybe for a while," he sighs.

She cups his cheeks. "Cullen," she murmurs. Telling him he doesn't have to be strong and in control with her won't do any good, she knows. She hopes she can show him. "Lie down, that's an order, Commander." He smiles and does as he's told, settling beside her against the pillows. She sits up and rubs her hand slowly up and down the center of his chest. "You know I like it when you follow orders."

"You like it when anyone follows orders," he points out with a smile. 

"It's different," she says, pinching lightly at his nipple. He takes a shaky breath, but stays still. She brings her other hand up and rubs small circles over his chest and shoulders. 

She loves how his muscles jump under her fingers. She also loves how he gradually relaxes more, how his eyelids droop and he starts making more appreciative noises. She trails fingernails over his skin, then leans down to kiss it.

"Vehnan'ara," she murmurs and slides further down, kissing over his stomach. She keeps her touches firm and he moans for her. 

"Emma lath," he whispers carefully, and she hides a smile against his hip. His pronunciation is pretty good too. He must've been practicing. Even feeling as awful as he was.

She noses gently between his thighs. He takes a breath that sounds like her name and she squeezes his thighs with her hands. 

He groans when she closes her mouth over him. She feels his hand push into her hair. He doesn't direct her or pull, just makes a point of contact. She listens to his breathing as she works him with her lips and tongue, wraps a hand around the base of his cock and swirls her tongue around the head. Aine loves the way his hips quiver, the way his fingers curl through her hair; the way he feels in her mouth, the way his cock twitches whenever her tongue slides just so against the underside. 

His face when she looks up at him is flushed, eyes closed with pleasure. She squeezes his hips with her fingers as she sucks. She can taste his pleasure. She waits until he's whimpering and circling his hips to pull off.

"Aine," he moans. He sounds desperate, but his fingers remain gentle in her hair. 

"I know," she whispers, crawling up to kiss him. His arms go around her shoulders and he crushes her against him as they kiss. "Ready for more?" Aine asks softly.

"Yes," he gasps. "Maker, the things you do with your mouth." 

"It's my turn next," she teases, nipping at his chin before slithering back down the mattress.

He laughs breathlessly and she can't help but stop and smile at him for just a moment. She wraps a hand around him this time, squeezing the base of his cock while mouthing at the head.

His fingers grasp at the bedclothes, clenching tight. She hums with pleasure and keeps moving. She can taste him more strongly now and she relishes knowing she's making him feel so good. 

He moans softly, ending on her name. She keeps sucking, and reaches out with her free hand to lace her fingers with Cullen's. He squeezes hard when he's about to come. She squeezes back and keeps her mouth on him as he moans. His hips twitch up and he empties himself in her mouth. She swallows, gentling the pressure of her tongue and pulling off slowly.

"Aine," he gasps, squeezing her fingers again. She leans down to nuzzle the soft skin below his belly button. 

"See? Wasn't that nice?" she murmurs.

"Nice is quite the understatement," Cullen says and reaches for her. 

Aine lets him haul her up into his arms, squeaks when their mouths crash together. When he slides his tongue into her mouth, she can't help but melt against him. 

"Cullen," she says throatily when he kisses down her jaw to her ear.

"It's your turn," he murmurs. "I want to taste you." 

She nods automatically, heat flaring in her belly. He slides his hands down to her hips and tugs. She moves up until her hands grip the headboard and his arms are wrapped around her thighs. "Cullen," she murmurs, quivering with anticipation.

He squeezes her thighs and then his mouth is on her. He's being so entirely gentle, and she wants to scream.

"Cullen," she moans and tugs his hair impatiently. When he laughs against her, she knows he's doing it on purpose. She grits her teeth and holds harder to the headboard. She knows if she tells him to get on with things he will, but she's not so desperate that she doesn't want to feel his mouth the way he wants to give it to her. 

He licks gently, teasing into her with the tip of his tongue. She sucks in a breath and tries to keep her hips steady. He keeps his strokes gentle and delicate, repeating motions when he feels her react more strongly. She moans when he presses a fingertip in behind his tongue, lifts one hand from the headboard and cups her breast, pinching her nipple. Cullen is moving his finger now, sucking in time with the thrusts. Her thighs quiver and she rocks down against his face.

She curses in elven and his fingers start moving faster. She curses again, calls his name breathlessly. He hums against her and starts sucking harder. Slick and swollen, she feels her muscles start to clench around his fingers. His lips and tongue slow just enough to draw out her release. She chants his name and shoves her hand into his hair. Her hips buck helplessly and she presses her forehead against the headboard, gasping.

He strokes her thighs and arse, and his mouth gentles. She has just enough energy to sling her leg over him and crumple down onto the pillows. She curls around his head, stroking his hair, and he wraps an arm over her hip and the smile he gives her makes her entire chest feel tight. 

"Are you going to teach me the Elven swear words, too?" he asks mildly. 

Aine snorts. "No, because you'd never use them."

"I might," he says. She just laughs and leans down to kiss his forehead. 

"No, you wouldn't." He gives her a crooked smile. He clearly knows she's right. She cups his cheek and runs her thumb over the corner of his mouth. "Have I mentioned how glad I am that you're feeling better?" 

"I inferred as much," he murmurs.

"Good," she says, then adds, "I'd still be here if you weren't. But seeing you in pain was hard and I'd prefer to...not." 

"Likewise," Cullen replies. 

She smiles and kisses him, finally moving to drape herself over his chest. "What if we stay here and don't leave?" she murmurs into his neck. 

He chuckles. "I'm picturing a line of messengers all waiting outside the door. Who would they send? Leliana to pick it, or Cassandra to kick it down?"

Aine groans. "Probably both, just to be safe. Maybe just for the rest of the day?" she suggests hopefully. 

"A few hours, at the least," Cullen says, resigned.

She rubs her face against his skin. "That will have to be enough. For now." 

"Have you had enough for now?" he asks, expression innocent.

"I will never have enough of you," she says.

"Well, I suppose I can -" 

Aine chuckles. "But we can rest for a bit."

He wraps his arms tightly around her and she feels his lips on the top of her head. She can tell he's smiling. She feels so much better now than she did just hours ago for so many reasons, and most of them are because of him.

She takes a deep breath and pushes herself up enough that she can look at his face. His eyes are closed, but he mumbles, "Yes, Aine?"

His hair has gone curly from being sweat-damp and the crease in his forehead has relaxed into smoothness. "Just admiring my commander," she tells him.

He smiles and his eyes open. "I love you so very much," he says. 

"I know," she says, curling more securely into his arms. If she only has a few hours of this, she's going to use them well by napping with her lover. And if they wake up soon enough for other things, she won't complain a bit.


End file.
